


Let Me Put on a Show

by deadcliche



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Active Observer, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Basically Kuroo is instructing Atsumu through ruining his boyfriend, Bottom Bokuto Koutarou, Come Eating, Day 6: Voyeurism/Exhibitionism, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Facial, HQ Thirstmas 2020, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Time Skip, Sub Bokuto, Top Miya Atsumu, Voyeur Kuroo Tetsurou, Voyeurism, dom Kuroo, instructions, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28068849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadcliche/pseuds/deadcliche
Summary: Rather than get jealous over the obvious flirtation between his boyfriend and his setter, Kuroo takes advantage of the opportunity. It’s fine if Bokuto wants Atsumu to fuck him... as long as Kuroo gets to watch.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Miya Atsumu, Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 17
Kudos: 229
Collections: HQ Thirstmas 2020, stories that touched me





	Let Me Put on a Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuasarScorpion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuasarScorpion/gifts).



> This is a few days late, but it’s for HQ Thirstmas Day 6: Voyeurism/Exhibitionism. And also for Jules, because she wanted this dynamic and we already agreed Kuroo is definitely a voyeur.

Kuroo has never really understood jealousy in relationships. He gets it as a concept, of course, but in the years he’s been with Bokuto, the green-eyed monster has never reared its ugly head. He knows there are lots of people who want to fuck his boyfriend and he can’t blame them; those thighs should really come with a warning. Hell, he also knows there are other people Bokuto fantasizes about because the honesty between them often makes other people uncomfortable. But it works for them, and that’s all that matters. 

Another man in a different relationship might stew in silence watching their friend flirt with his partner. Another man might storm out or make an excuse to end their Friday evening outing in favor of going home and starting a fight. Another man might see red when his boyfriend flirts back. But Kuroo is not that man. 

Instead, when he and Bokuto return to Bokuto’s apartment, not even making it past the genken before they’re tugging at each other’s clothes, mouths crashing together, Kuroo just whispers into his boyfriend’s ear between sloppy, alcohol-tringed kisses. “You want to fuck Atsumu, don’t you Kou?” 

Bokuto just groans in response, which is all the affirmation he needs. Kuroo pushes Bokuto up against the wall, undoing his belt and tugging his jeans and boxers down in one swift movement. “I want to watch him fuck you.” Kuroo drops to his knees, giving Bokuto’s half-hard cock a couple quick tugs before he leans forward and swallows it.

***

Unsurprisingly, Atsumu agrees immediately. The question is barely out of Bokuto’s mouth as they exit the training center together before Atsumu the enthusiastic yes tumbles from Atsumu’s lips. Bokuto is hot. Kuroo is hot. Why wouldn’t he be down rail to his thick thighed ace while his tall boyfriend with a penchant for three-piece suits watches? 

The next Tokyo game has Bokuto and Atsumu returning to Kuroo’s apartment after the match, rather than the hotel with the rest of their teammates. They settle down in the living room, a few minutes of slightly awkward small talk exchanged between the three of them.

Kuroo stands up from the couch, gesturing towards his bedroom. “I’m going to pour myself a drink. Why don’t you two go ahead, start getting… comfortable with each other.” He can tell Atsumu is feeling a little anxious about the situation. Excited, but with a touch of nerves. Kuroo figures giving him and Bokuto a few moments to familiarize themselves intimately with one another without his presence will quell the setter’s anxieties. Once he gets his hands on Bokuto, Kuroo is certain he’ll be too preoccupied by the man before him to be nervous. “Get him up against a wall, Atsumu. He likes that.”

He walks into the kitchen and fetches a glass from the cupboard and pours several fingers of whiskey into it. He leans against the counter, sipping his drink, as he counts down the seconds; Kuroo wants to give Atsumu and Bokuto enough time to get comfortable, but he’s more than a little eager to get in there with them. When he’s halfway through his drink, he figures that _has_ to be enough time for them. He can’t wait any longer. Kuroo tops his glass off and walks to the bedroom, imagination running wild as he anticipates what’s waiting for him. 

Kuroo pauses in the dorway to observe. He’s pleased to see that Atsumu has listened to him; the setter has Bokuto’s back against the wall, arms bracketing his shoulders and caging him in, and hips pressed flush against Bokuto’s pinning him in place. Atsumu moves his mouth from Bokuto’s lips across his jaw and down his neck, biting down and then soothing the spot with his tongue. Bokuto’s little whimpers fill the room as Atsumu continues his ministrations on his neck. They don’t even notice Kuroo’s presence, so enthralled with one another. He allows himself another few moments of silent observation because _fuck_ do they look good together, before making his presence known. 

“He’s so responsive, isn’t he, Atsumu?” Kuroo walks through the doorway, passing by the couple; both have turned to look at him, with wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and kiss swollen lips slick with spit. They look incredible, and Kuroo’s cock twitches at the sight of them ready and willing to enact his fantasies. He swallows the urge to grip both men by their hair and drag them onto the bed—that’s not what this is about—and sits down in the armchair he set up for this purpose. 

“Yeah, he fuckin’ keens every time I touch him.” Atsumu’s voice is thick, and he punctuates his point by reaching up to tug on Bokuto’s hair lightly, smirking as it inspires a low moan from the wing spiker. 

Kuroo places his drink between his thighs, reaching to undo his tie. “His moans sound even better when they’re muffled by something. Why don’t you drop him to his knees, see how good he sounds when he’s choking on your cock.” He drapes his tie over the back of the chair and then undos the top few buttons of his Oxford. 

Atsumu takes half a step back, giving Bokuto the space to drop down onto his knees between Atsumu and the wall. Bokuto’s hands reach up to the waistband of Atsumu’s joggers, fingers sliding underneath his boxers to pull both down together. Kuroo takes a few moments to appreciate the view of Atsumu’s round ass and thick thighs— _fuck_ does he want to bite into them—but he wants to be able to see Atsumu’s cock slide into Bokuto’s mouth, to watch his boyfriend choke. So he redirects. “Turn to the side. While it’s fun to fuck into his mouth when he’s pressed against a wall with nowhere to escape to, I won’t be able to see him like this.” 

Kuroo sips his drink as Bokuto and Atsumu rearrange themselves so their sides are facing the wall. Atsumu’s cock is fully hard and incredibly thick and Kuroo can’t wait to watch it split Bokuto open. “Go on Kou. Show him how good you are with your mouth.” 

Bokuto grips the base of Atsumu’s dick, causing the setter to hiss, and then leans in to lick at the tip, tongue running against his slit and then down the length of him. “How does he taste, Kou?” 

“So good, Tetsu.” As if to prove his statement, Bokuto opens his mouth wide, taking nearly Atsumu’s entire length into his mouth, sucking his cheeks in around it. Atsumu lets out a low groan, hips twitching towards Bokuto. Bokuto works half of Atsumu’s cock in and out of his mouth, hand still gripping the base. One of Atsumu’s hands presses against the wall, the other settles into Bokuto’s hair, gripping it tightly. Kuroo can hear Bokuto’s cock-muffled moan from the hair pulling and his own dick hardens in his slacks; he knows exactly what that noise feels like for Atsumu. Atsumu’s body is taught with the effort of keeping still, of trying not to just fuck into the wet warmth of Bokuto’s mouth. Kuroo wants him to stop fighting and give into the urge. 

“Kou, drop your hand.” Bokuto obeys immediately, continuing his ministrations, but he’s still not taking Atsumu as deep as Kuroo knows he can. “Fuck his mouth, Atsumu. He can take you deeper than that.”

Atsumu doesn’t need any more encouragement than that, and he’s thrusting into Bokuto’s mouth, jaw clenched trying to swallow the groans emanating from his throat. With each jerk of his hips, Atsumu sinks deeper into Bokuto’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat if Bokuto’s choking noises are anything to go by. Kuroo takes another sip of his drink, the burn in his throat matching the burning of his blood. His cock is straining against the zipper of his pants, and he reaches down to adjust himself. The brush of his fingertips feels so good, and he imagines walking across the room, replacing Atsumu’s dick with his own. Instead, he palms himself over his trousers and the feeling is a relief, but it’s also definitely not enough. 

Atsumu is panting and grunting. Bokuto is moaning and choking. Atsumu’s dick is sliding in and out of Bokuto’s mouth with lewd squelching noises. “Do you want to come down his throat, Atsumu?”

“Fuck,” Atsumu grunts. 

“Or maybe on his face?” 

At that suggestion, Bokuto moans and leans in towards Atsumu’s thrusts so that he’s taking the entire length of him. Clearly he’s excited by the prospect of being painted with Atsumu’s come. His eyes are wet from the effort of deep throating Atsumu’s cock, but Bokuto just grips the setter’s ass, determined to continue the current pace and depth. 

“You’d better be able to go a second round, Atsumu. I’d be very… disappointed if things were to end here.” Kuroo drawls. 

Apparently Miya Atsumu is into a little bit of degradation, because suddenly he’s pulling out of Bokuto’s mouth, giving himself no more than four quick jerks, and spilling all over Bokuto’s face, painting his cheeks, open mouth, and neck with his come. Bokuto hums in satisfaction. When he’s done, Atsumu sags against the wall, trying to catch his breath. “Fuckin’ hell, Bokkun,” he gasps, voice hoarse. 

“Fucking hell,” Kuroo echoes, because Bokuto looks so good like this. “Clean him up, Atsumu.”

Atsumu pulls his shirt off, reaching out to use the fabric to wipe Bokuto off. 

“Not like that,” Kuroo interjects. Atsumu’s gaze flicks over to him, brows raised in a silent question. Kuroo takes another sip of his drink, relishing the moment. “You know, there’s hardly a single promotional picture of you where your tongue is in your fucking mouth. Why don’t you put it to good use, for once?” 

Atsumu’s eyes widen with the implication, dropping his shirt in shock, and there’s a pause and Kuroo wonders if he’s actually going to go through with it; the request might be a little bit too much. His breath catches in his throat when Atsumu bends down to Bokuto’s level, sticking his pink tongue out, and starts lapping his come off Bokuto’s face. Kuroo can’t help but groan at the deprivation of it all, watching Atsumu clean Bokuto up, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, saliva and come smearing between their faces. They separate with a smack and Atsumu stands, gripping the front of Bokuto’s shirt, dragging him to his feet. He tugs it over Bokuto’s head, using the soft cotton to clean off the rest of Bokuto’s face and neck before rubbing his own face off. 

“Are you going to be able to rally to fuck him, Atsumu? I’d be concerned about your supposed athletic stamina if things ended here.” 

“Yer of little faith, Kuroo.” Atsumu scoffs, pushing Bokuto down onto the bed and tugging his sweats and boxers down.

“Want to feel you, ‘Tsumu.” Bokuto’s voice is low, gravely with his arousal and the strain of deepthroating Atsumu’s cock. 

“Lube and condoms are in the bedside table, top drawer. Get him ready for you.” Kuroo takes the pause to remove his jacket, hanging it over the back of the chair with his tie. He hears Atsumu rummage through the drawer, and when Kuroo returns to observe the scene, Atsumu is already sitting on his haunches between Bokuto’s thighs, slicking his fingers up with lube. 

“How do ya like it, Bokkun?” 

Bokuto opens his mouth to respond, but Kuroo interjects. “It doesn’t matter what he wants, Atsumu. I’ll tell you what to do because this show is singularly for me. And I want you to be rough with him.” 

“Tetsuuu,” Bokuto whines, hips twitching into the mattress. His cock is ruddy and thick, leaking against his stomach and he reaches down to touch himself. “Tell him to touch me or I’m going to just do it myself.” 

“Impatient, aren’t you?” Kuroo chuckles. 

“There are two hot men in this room, and no one is fucking touching me. Of course I’m impatient,” Bokuto huffs. “There are four other hands here, why is my own on my cock?” 

“I didn’t say you could do that, Kou. Get your hands off yourself, or I’ll tell Atsumu to bind your hands behind your back.” The thought is so very tempting, Kuroo almost hopes Bokuto disobeys, so that he can pass his tie over to Atsumu and watch Bokuto’s muscled arms fight against the restraint. Bokuto’s movements stop, hands falling to his sides, gripping the comforter. Despite wanting the excuse to have Atsumu tie Bokuto up, Kuroo is very pleased that he’s following instruction so well. “Get him ready, Atsumu.” 

Atsumu wastes no time, sinking his index finger into Bokuto, going all the way to his second knuckle in one swift press. Bokuto shudders, exhaling heavily as his hips twitch down into Atsumu’s touch. Atsumu thrusts in and out of Bokuto’s hole quickly, easing more of his finger in until Bokuto has taken the entire length. 

“More,” the spiker groans, hands still twisted in the bedding, knuckles turning white. “Please, ‘Tsumu.” 

“I don’t think I’m the one ya should be asking, Bokkun.” Atsumu’s looks over his shoulder to Kuroo, who gives him a slight nod, grinning widely. Hungrily. Atsumu presses another finger against his rim, teasing the muscle for a few minutes before pushing into him. 

“Fuuuck,” Bokuto groans, burying his face in his hands. Atsumu keeps up his pace, scissoring his fingers quickly, stretching him out as quickly as possible. He curls his fingers, rubbing at the bundle of nerves. Bokuto’s back arches off the bed and he whines at the stimulation to his prostate. 

Atsumu is hardening again. Bokuto looks like a damn vision before him, skin slick with sweet, flushed with arousal, thick muscles tensing as he trembles with Atsumu’s ministrations. “Ya look so good like this, Bokkun.” 

“He does, doesn’t he? He’ll look even better, once you break him.” Kuroo can’t wait to watch his partner unravel beneath their friend, can’t wait to see the expression on Atsumu’s face as he slides his cock into Bokuto’s tight heat. It’s getting increasingly difficult to ignore his own length; he’s uncomfortably hard and leaking in his pants, but he knows once he starts touching himself, he’s bound to miss moments of the scene before him, and he wants to commit every lewd moment to memory. Still, he can’t resist rubbing himself lightly to alleviate some of the pressure. “Give him a third finger.” Kuroo’s voice is rough, indicating how affected he is by all of this. He knows Bokuto will be able to tell. He takes another sip of his drink, the alcohol doing nothing to quench the dryness in his throat. 

Atsumu fucks him with three fingers, alternating between rubbing against his prostate and spreading his fingers to stretch his hole, readying him to take his dick. 

“M’ready,” Bokuto huffs. “Fuck me, Tsumu.” 

Atsumu pulls his fingers from Bokuto, who whines at the loss of contact. He rips the condom wrapper open, quickly rolling it down his length. Kuroo tuts softly, but Atsumu and Bokuto are both panting too desperately to hear him. Kuroo lets him slick his cock up with lube, hitch Bokuto’s thighs over his forearms, and align himself with Bokuto’s hole. “Did I say you could do that?” He interrupts. 

Matching grunts of frustration come from deep within Bokuto and Atsumu’s chests, and the sound is absolutely thrilling. He half expects Atsumu to sink into Bokuto anyway, regardless of his instruction. His hips twitch, but he holds himself back and Kuroo can’t help but fucking groan. They’re both being so good. Kuroo grips his glass tightly and runs his other hand through his hair, needing to keep himself preoccupied so he doesn’t undo his slacks and finally get his hand around his dick. “Get on your hands and knees, Kou. I want to be able to see Atsumu’s cock stretching you open.” 

There’s a shaky ‘fuck,’ rustling of fabric, and heavy breathing as the men rearrange themselves on the bed. Bokuto drops down to his forearms, back arching deliciously, rounded ass and thick thighs on display. Atsumu uses one hand to position himself, the other gripping Bokuto’s hip as he slowly pushes inside of Bokuto. Both Kuroo and Atsumu watch as Atsumu’s length sinks into Bokuto, the muscled ring stretching around him, gripping tightly. 

All three men groan as Atsumu bottoms out, pausing to allow Bokuto to adjust around him. Atsumu gives a few slow, gentle thrusts, coaxing low moans from Bokuto. Kuroo watches Atsumu’s thick cock slide into Bokuto over and over, sweat beading up across his broad chest as he picks up the pace, skin slapping together with the fervor of his thrusts. 

The noise inspires Kuroo. “Slap his ass, Atsumu.” 

Atsumu grunts, bringing his hand against the flesh of Bokuto’s ass with a loud smacking noise. Bokuto howls, skin reddening instantly. “Fuck, yer taking me so good Bokkun. Yer so fuckin’ tight. Ya like how my dick feels?” 

Bokuto’s face drops into the mattress, his affirmation muffled into the sheets, but he’s rocking backward, fucking himself deeper onto Atsumu’s cock. Kuroo can’t take it any longer. He knocks back the last of his whiskey, sputtering slightly at the oversized shot, and places the glass out of the way on the floor. Kuroo unbuttons and unzips his slacks, pulling himself from his boxer briefs, hissing as he finally makes skin on skin contact against his neglected cock. The lube is across the room, and he doesn’t want to interrupt, so he just spits into his hand and starts stroking himself slowly. The friction feels incredible after sitting and watching Bokuto and Atsumu for so long, his cock aching in his slacks the entire time. He speeds up his pace, hips twitching up into his hand as he tries to match the stroke of his hand to the stroke of Atsumu’s hips. 

Bokuto is gasping and pleading into the bed, but Kuroo wants him to howl. “Ruin him, Atsumu. I want him howling and begging to come.” 

Atsumu fucks him in earnest, rolling his hips to grind against Bokuto’s prostate until he’s whining. Atsumu leans over Bokuto’s back, threading his fingers in the two-toned hair, and tucking his head back away from the mattress, his moans no longer muffled. It’s music to Kuroo’s ears. Bokuto returns to his forearms, but Atsumu does not release his hair, continuing to tug at it in a way that makes Bokuto wail with pain and pleasure. Atsumu slaps Bokuto’s ass again with his free hand and then stills inside him. Kuroo relishes in the way Bokuto sputters at Atsumu's stillness, rocking his hips back to keep fucking himself. He’s sure Atsumu relishes it too. 

“Tsumu,” Bokuto pleads. 

“Ya doin’ so good, Bokkun. Fucking yerself on me. Ya so desperate for it, aren’t ya?” 

Bokuto’s moan covers Kuroo’s grunt; he’s impressed and aroused by Atsumu as he continues to work his hand around his dick. “Mhmm,” Bokuto manages. 

“Don’t start fucking him again until he begs you for it,” Kuroo instructs. 

Atsumu tugs on his hair again, free hand working to still Bokuto’s hips. “Ya gonna listen and beg me, Bo?” 

“Tsumu… Kuroo…” Bokuto pants, pushing against Atsumu’s hand to keep up his rocking. “I want to come. Please, let me come.” 

Atsumu slaps his ass again, then slams back into him, building a relentless pace. He occasionally punctuates the roll of his hips with another smack, leaving Bokuto whimpering. Atsumu releases Bokuto’s hair, reaching around to grip his neglected cock. The contact has Bokuto shaking immediately, trying to rock down into Atsumu’s hand and back onto his dick simultaneously. 

“‘M’close,” Bokuto slurs. Kuroo can see the flush on his face, the light sheen of sweat and tears across his cheekbones. 

Atsumu rolls his hips, flicks his wrist, and Bokuto comes with a sob that pushes Kuroo over the edge as well, spilling into his hand. He’s hazy with pleasure, but hears Atsumu’s choked groan. 

Slowly, they all come out of their orgasm induced fog. Kuroo tucks himself back into his boxers with his clean hand, standing and crossing over to the bedside table to wipe his hand with a tissue. Bokuto is collapsed on his stomach, panting heavily, ass red. Atsumu lies next to him, chest still heaving. Kuroo sits down on the edge of the bed, running his hand through Bokuto’s hair. He leans over to kiss his forehead, cupping his face tenderly. “You were so good, Kou. Looked so fucking hot taking Atsumu like that. I’m so proud of you. Love you so much.” He continues to stroke Bokuto’s cheek gently, but looks over to Atsumu. “You weren’t half bad yourself, Atsumu.” 

Atsumu chuckles lightly. “I’ll take that. Ya know, I think I want both of ya to fuck me, if ya wanted to invite me back.” 

“Can we, Tetsu?” Bokuto’s voice is rough, but enthusiastic. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Voyeurism/Exhibitionism are some of my absolute favorite kinks, so I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Come hangout with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/beefyboihinata) (18+).


End file.
